


Red Skies at Morning

by Actual_Writing_Trashcan



Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [34]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Smut, This is just smut, Whelp, enjoy i guess, mildly disguised as a character study, nothing but filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 04:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17542523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan
Summary: You and Piotr get stuck in a motel when a massive storm hits. With nothing better to do, you two have sex.That's it. That's what this is.Enjoy... or... whatever.(Set after the ending of "Dig the Needle In.)





	Red Skies at Morning

_“--travelers are advised to take shelter until the storm front passes to avoid risk of getting caught in floods and mudslides. Tornado watches are in effect for the following counties--”_

You scowl as you do your best to dry off your sopping hair and clothes with a towel.

You and Piotr had been driving back from a mutant awareness conference in Washington D.C. when the two of you had gotten caught in a nasty string of thunderstorms. Piotr had thought it best to find a motel and pull off until the worst of the storm passed, and after nearly getting hit by a falling tree, you’d agreed.

“It looks like we might be here for longer than expected,” Piotr calls out from the bedroom he’d rented for the two of you. “The front is rather expansive.”

“I gathered as much,” you grumbled back.

Things could be worse, though. The motel was clean and modern, had cable and Wi-Fi, and a decently comfortable bed. The two of you were safe, the car still worked, and push came to shove the X-Men would just send out a jet to pick you up.

The run from the car to the motel lobby, however, had completely soaked the two of you through; there’s nothing comfortable about wearing wet jeans.

You rifle through your --also wet--backpack, hoping that you --by some miracle--had an extra set of underwear and a dry shirt packed in there. “Aw, fucking shit.”

“Are you alright,  _moya lyubov’?_ ”

“Yeah, I just don’t have any dry clothes to change into. It’s just annoying.” You open one of the smaller compartments, still delusional in your hope--

and find five individually wrapped condoms.

You blink. Then, you scowl.  _Oh, I have condoms packed, but not a change of clothes?_

Your scowl disappears as an idea occurs to you.  _I... have condoms packed_.

Because, technically, you don’t need a dry change of clothes if you don’t wear any at all.

You smirk, grab the condoms, and head to the threshold of the bathroom.

Piotr’s standing --because, for whatever inane reason, he refuses to sit on the bed while damp--in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest while he watches the weather report. He’s just as soaked as you are, which means his shirt and jeans are clinging to every inch of his massive, muscular body.

You take a moment to admire --ogle, whatever--your partner before clearing your throat. “You’re not gonna believe what I found in my backpack.” When he raises an eyebrow at you, you chuck one of the condoms at him, pelting him straight in the shoulder.

He catches it and stares at it for a moment before smiling slowly. “I take it you have...  _ideas_.”

“Hey, all I’m gonna say is that we don’t need a dry change of clothes if we don’t wear clothes at all.”

“How very practical of you.”

“Oh, this has nothing to do with being practical,” you say, grinning as the you close the distance between the two of you. “This has everything to do with getting you naked and in that bed.”

“Also an idea I can appreciate,” he murmurs as he presses his lips against your jaw.

You let out a breathy giggle --then squeak in confusion when he starts walking you back towards the bathroom. “Uh, Piotr, this is the wrong way.”

“We can hang up our clothes in here and let them dry while we are...  _occupied_. Besides, we ought to dry off.”

“But, babe, I’m gonna be  _wet_  either way,” you tease, biting your lip and batting your eyelashes at him for added effect.

He growls playfully and dips his head to your neck while his hands grab at your hips. “Believe me when I say I am  _counting_  on that.”

You let out a soft, half-laugh, half-moan, then giggle again when he strips your shirt off you without further preamble --and out and out laugh when he actually drapes your shirt over the shower rod so that it isn’t folded over itself. “Are you kidding me?”

“What? If it is crumpled, it will not dry--”

You clap a hand over your mouth, trying in vain to stifle your snickers. “You’ve got a shirtless girl in front of you, and you’re more worried about the shirt!”

“I have my priorities straight!” he protests, lips curling into a good-natured grin as he peels out of his own shirt and hangs it up next to yours.

“No, sir, I’m pretty sure you don’t!” You unclasp your bra and chuck it into the empty shower, then start working on his pants before he can move to pick it up. “The  _priority_  is to get into that bed, buck-ass naked, as  _soon_  as  _possible_.”

“I disagree. Priority is getting our clothes dry.” He bats your hands away from his pants so he can take them off --before you rip something--and hangs them and his briefs up along with both your shirts. “Being naked and in bed with you is happy side effect.”

“Oh, so that’s all I am to you?” You grin. “A fucking side effect?”

“ _Nyet_.” He peels you out of your pants and underwear --and hangs them up, the dork--before setting you on the edge of the sink. “You are so much more.”

You sigh contentedly as he presses his lips against your neck and chest, then grip the edge of the counter you’re sat upon when he kneels in front of you. “What if I need you to prove it to me?”

He smirks and kisses the inside of your thigh, gently nudging your legs apart. “Then I will do what I must.”

You do your best to get comfortable on your perch; Piotr’s reputation as a patient man well proceeds him, and you know from many pleasurable firsthand experiences that this is an area he likes taking his time with.

Besides, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the anticipation, the slow build of feeling his mouth press against the most sensitive parts of your thighs, your hips.

But, then again, anticipation only does so much for a girl.

You whine and thread your fingers through his thick, dark hair as he nips at the juncture where your thigh and hip merge. “ _Piotr_. Baby, c’mon,  _please_ \--”

“Patience,  _myshka_.”

“Do you even know me?”

He chuckles as he gently sucks on part of your thigh, taking the soft flesh between his teeth before running his tongue over the offended spot. “If a man loves a woman, he must show her in his thoroughness. In his want to touch and kiss her everywhere.”

“Counterpoint: he could show it by diving straight in because he wants her so bad he can’t wait.”

“Are you trying to make point,  _dorogoy_?”

“Yes, actually, because I’d really like if you stopped teasing and just  _ate me out already_.” You shiver when he chuckles; you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your slick folds, and the aching need to have his mouth on your is fucking  _unbearable_ \--

“Look at me,  _myshka_.”

You do as he asks and moan as soon as you lock eyes with him.

You’re a firm believer that you’ll never find someone with eyes more expressive than Piotr’s; his beautiful baby blues can convey depths of emotions the likes of which you’ve never seen.

They actually sparkle when he’s happy. You thought that kind of stuff only happened in books.

Right now, though, they’re burning. His eyes are dark with desire and want, and they’re focused only on you.

You hold his gaze for a heartbeat, maybe two at the most--

and then he dives in, separating your folds with his tongue before licking a fat stripe from your entrance to your clit.

All without breaking eye contact.

You let out a broken whine, hips rocking against his face as he finally -- _finally_ \--gives you the attention you’ve been waiting for.

He’s all focus and finesse, alternating using his tongue and lips --never teeth, he doesn’t like risking hurting you in such a sensitive place--to wind you up, send you ever closer to ecstasy.

You whimper as his hands come up to grope at your ass, pull you closer to his mouth. You grip his hair harder, tug at it a little, and keen when the vibrations from the groan he lets out reverberate through your clit. “Oh god,  _Piotr_ \--” You spread your legs wider when he sucks your clit between his lips, back arching as pleasure sparks through your body. “Fuck, baby--”

He moans and pushes two fingers into you --one of his hands moved from your ass at some point, you don’t remember when, everything’s gone hazy in light of the immense pleasure you’re feeling--arching them and curling them until he’s hitting your g-spot with every twitch. He works them in time with his mouth, yanking your body towards an orgasm so fast that your brain can barely keep up.

One of your hands grips the hair at the back of his head, while the other falls away to brace yourself against the sink counter. The mirror presses against your shoulders, cool and hard, and you have to keep your back arched to keep the faucet from digging into your skin.

It’s heaven. No other word comes close to describing.

“ _Piotr_!” You pant and gasp, mouth falling open and eyes squeezing shut as the pressure in your abdomen coils tighter. “Oh --fuck-- _Piotr_!”

He’s never the type to stop at one. He loves pleasuring you, loves making you feel good, loves watching you fall apart for him.  _Because_  of him.

He doesn’t stop when you climax. He doesn’t even slow down, just uses the aftershocks to his advantage and works another two orgasms out of you before he finally stops.

Your arms quiver as you gasp for air, shaking like jelly as they try to keep you from slipping into the sink basin. Fortunately, you don’t have to hold yourself up for long.

Piotr scoops you up with one arm, grabs a couple condoms with his free hand, and walks both of you back to the bed.

You prop yourself as he sets you down, eyeing him hungrily as he climbs on top of you. You smooth your hands over his strong, thick arms, then move them to press against his chest gently. “Lay on your back. I wanna do something.”

He obliges with a small smile, watching you with hooded eyes. “I feel as though I should learn to fear when you get ideas.”

You smirk at him as you shift down the bed, positioning yourself between his thighs. “I don’t know. I think you’re gonna like this one.”

And then you duck your head and press your tongue against his rock hard cock, licking a stripe from root to tip.

He lets out a hiss as you take him in your mouth, hand reaching down to gently grab onto your hair. “ _Bozhe moi_...”

You bob your head, swirling your tongue and sucking as you do. You’ve never gotten him to let himself cum in your mouth, and you know that won’t change now, but that doesn’t stop you. You enjoy feeling him in your mouth, enjoy the sensation of his thick shaft twitching in your mouth, enjoy the sounds of pleasure that spill past his lips.

And, sure enough --too soon for your liking, if you’re being honest--he’s tugging you up, pulling you up so you’re pressed against his chest. “If you keep doing that,  _moya lyubov’_ , this is all going to be very short lived.”

“Just wanted to repay what you did in the bathroom,” you murmur as you kiss him, open-mouthed and hungry.

“If I said I had better idea?” he growls as he rolls so that you’re lying underneath him.

“I’d say I’m easily persuaded.” You nip at the spot just behind his jaw. “Wrap it up, Rasputin. I’m not feeling very patient.”

He chuckles as he shifts off you and picks up one of the condoms. “You are never patient.”

“Your point?”

He kisses you again as he tears the foil wrapper open, more sweet than consuming. “I love you.”

You press your forehead against his. “I love you, too.” You watch as he puts the condom on, teeth playing with your lower lip. An idea flashes into your mind, and you smirk as you roll over, positioning yourself on your hands and your knees.

Piotr looks over at you when he feels the bed move and chuckles. “Oh, really?”

“Are you complaining?” You can feel the mattress shift as he positions himself behind you, and let out a little gasp when he tugs you towards him so your head isn’t too close to the headboard.

“When I am with you?” He pushes your hair away from the back of your neck and presses a gentle kiss there. “Never.”

He goes slow --he always does, at first. You know some of it’s the size difference, and some of it’s his love for feeling everything thoroughly, feeling you thoroughly, but you’re still convinced that some of it --  _a lot_  of it--is because he likes driving you up a fucking wall.

Your fingers curl into the duvet cover as he pushes in, a gentle thrum of pleasure pulsing through your core at the stretch of his cock against your walls. “Look, babe, I know the front’s pretty big, but I’d like to finish at least one round of sex before it passes.”

“Patience,  _myshka_.”

“I will be patient when you get me off --ah!” Your mouth falls open as he snaps his hips against yours.

“And here I thought I did that already,” he chuckles as he starts thrusting, still too soft and gentle for your tastes.

“One: we both know that you’re not gonna let yourself cum until you get me there  _at least_  once more, Mr. Gentleman. Two--” you stop to gasp as he thrusts a little harder, fingers digging into your hips just a little more to keep you steady “--oh fuck, keep doing that.”

He chuckles again. “And what about second point? You have me curious.”

You whimper as he rubs against a particularly sweet spot. “We both know you get off on getting me off.”

He lets out a soft groan at that and starts thrusting harder, faster. “Well, you are not wrong there.”

“Oh, so are you saying I was wrong about the first point?” You shiver as he leans over you, whimper as his cock presses that much deeper inside of you.

He presses his mouth against the shell of your ear, tracing the tip of his tongue along the edge before gently taking it between his teeth. “ _Nyet_. You were absolutely right.”

Your head hangs down, towards the bed, as he finally starts moving the way you want him to --have been wanting him to. “Oh god,  _Piotr_ \--”

He groans something in Russian and presses himself closer against your, so that his chest brushes against your back with each thrust. He plants one of his hand next to yours, tangling your fingers together, and wraps his other arm around your waist.

You whine and shift your legs a little further apart, arch your back a little lower. Every thrust feels like heaven, lighting your soaked cunt up with indescribable pleasure. You moan and tighten your grip on his fingers. “Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_  --oh god, oh...  _fuck_!”

Piotr groans again and lets his weight press against you, press your chest against the comforter. His hips snap harder against yours, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the the room, underpinned by the sound of the bed frame creaking. “Louder.”

You let out a moan --unabashed, unrestrained--when the meaning sinks. “Oh, fuck, baby --oh god!”

He growls --actually growls--in your ear and holds you tighter against his chest. “ _Mne nravitsya, kogda ty krichish' za menya_.”

You whimper as an all too familiar, all too wanted pressure starts building in your core. “Oh...  _god_...”

He nips at your neck, sucking a bruise onto the side. “ _Mne nravitsya, kogda lyudi znayut, chto ty moy_.”

The fingers on your free hand dig into the bedspread as he fucks you ever closer to a climax. “ _Piotr_ \--”

The arm around your waist shifts, and then his fingers are at your clit, rubbing and pressing in time with his thrusts. “ _I ya lyublyu, kogda ty konchish' dlya menya_.”

You scream as you climax hits, then scream louder when the thrusts and the movements on his fingers don’t stop. “Piotr!  _Piotr_!”

He keeps going until you cum again --which doesn’t take long, admittedly--and then reaches his own finish with a few rough, short thrusts.

You both lie on the bed for a moment, panting as you each ride out the aftershocks of your respective orgasms.

You go limp against the bed when he pulls out of you and slides off the bed so he can throw the condom away. Your head’s fuzzy with endorphins and pleasure, and you nestle yourself against the cover with a sleepy smile.

And then Piotr’s back, kissing your temple with the gentleness of a saint as he lifts you into his arms and tucking you both under the blanket. “Are you alright?”

You hum contentedly and his collarbone. “So alright. Better than alright. You?”

He huffs out a laugh and cradles you in his arms as he presses his lips against your forehead, your hairline. “I am always alright when I am with you.”

“And I’m always alright when I’m with you.” You shift onto your back and run your fingers through his disheveled hair. “I love you, Pete.”

He smiles, soft and unbelievably happy, and lowers his lips to yours. “And I love you, Y/N.”

**Author's Note:**

> Alright. Update time.
> 
> Good news: I am officially on the books to see a psychiatrist.
> 
> Bad news: The first appointment isn't until mid-February.
> 
> Which means I'm gonna be in quite the slump for a couple weeks --and possibly longer if my meds aren't figured out quickly.
> 
> So, uh, yeah. That sucks.
> 
> Thanks for all your love and support! You guys are the best bunch of readers an author could ask for!
> 
> Here's hoping that sunnier skies find us all --and very soon in my case, because it is COLD AS FUCKING BALLS WHERE I AM HOLY SHIT CAN SUMMER JUST COME ALREADY!!
> 
> (also, i literally started watching daredevil for the sake of seeing frank castle in action, and i have two things to say: 1.) the punisher is a FUCKING SNACC, and 2.) matt is an ASSHOLE.)
> 
> -The Author


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